


That's an "America! Fuck yeah" moment right there.

by Leafling



Series: PWP [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Clothing Porn, Coming Untouched, Costume Kink, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Fourth of July, M/M, Masturbation, Patriotism, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Iron Man 3, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:33:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7423813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafling/pseuds/Leafling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently, patriotism gets Tony hot and bothered. Steve approves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's an "America! Fuck yeah" moment right there.

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I'm playing emotional tug 'o war with all things Marvel atm, I'm always up for writing cringey porn. I hope everyone had a great Fourth of July. This is late as hell, but my weekend was spent studying... sorry.
> 
> 10 points if you recognise where the title's from.

For all Tony's complaints about Captain America's spangly uniform, it comes at quite the shock to Steve when he walks in on the brunet curled up on his bed, Steve's uniform jacket tangled around his body and clinging to his arms and his shoulders for dear life as Tony buries his nose in the collar and reduces himself to pitiful moans as he furiously fingers himself.

It's like a smack in the face, the overall bizarreness of his discovery. Steve stands in the doorway for an eternity, watching Tony jerk and twist in the sheets, fingers pistoning in and out of his glistening hole as he clenches his thighs around his leaking erection and fists the jacket in the other hand like a lifeline. Steve's mouth goes dry just watching, his cock growing hard and heavy as he listens to the litany of breathy sounds the other man is making. His fingers suddenly itch to sink in that wet heat alongside Tony's, to feel that velveteen muscle clench and spasm around him.

The door clicks shut behind him before Steve even notices he's moving. The sound alerts Tony, the brunet starting to roll over onto his side to pull the cover over him. Steve is fast, though— _thank God for Abraham Erskine_ —he pounces on Tony like an animal in heat. The other man barely has time to utter a single sound of protest, _or surprise,_ when Steve kisses him, hands palming up and down Tony's legs until the brunet finally spreads them, relaxing now that he knows its Steve who's decided to walk in on him masturbating.

Their mouths stay affixed to each other, only pulling back when Tony needs to breathe, and even then Steve nips and sucks at his lips like he's starving for more. Tony's hand has since stilled its ministrations, but that doesn't stop Steve from reaching down to caress his slick first knuckles, silently asking permission that he _just knows_ Tony will grant. Steve smiles into their kiss when Tony moans his consent, his hand falling away to allow Steve's fingers to press inside instead. Stars explode behind Tony's eyes as the blond presses his knuckles right up against the brunet's prostate, wrenching pleasured cries from a deep place in Tony's stomach.

Tony can't keep their mouths connected, not when he's mewling himself hoarse. Falling back onto the bed, he turns and buries his face in the jacket once more. His eyes remain glued on Steve, though, even as he fists the jacket and brings it over his mouth so he can bite down on the thick fabric. There's several unspoken messages in that one look alone.

_You turn me on, Steve._

_You're fucking sexy when you're all dressed up._

_I used to touch myself to you when I was younger._

_You're a vain son of a bitch for getting off on_ me _getting off on_ you _._

Steve slips his fingers out suddenly, flipping Tony onto his stomach and yanking his own pants down to his thighs before pulling Tony's hips back into him. They both groan as Steve's dick rubs against Tony's slick hole, the brunet bucking back into Steve's erection eagerly. Unable to hold back any longer, Steve quickly pushes inside—even though he's just as impatient as Tony to fuck into oblivion, he somehow still has the presence of mind to be careful. Gripping Tony's waist, he has to physically restraint the brunet to keep the other man from fucking himself on Steve's dick.

“Didn't know you were so hard for Captain America?” Steve pants, massaging up and down Tony's stomach.

The brunet keens and wriggles for more than the sporadic, shallow thrusts Steve gives him, “oh... You know how hot patriotism gets me,” Tony retorts, “fuck yeah, America.”

Steve groans in embarrassment, “don't...”

“Cmon, Stevie, make me see fireworks,” Tony moans.

Steve obeys, but only because Tony's puns are cringe-inducing and rendering him speechless is the only way to get him to shut the fuck up.

As Steve fucks him more and more ruthlessly, Tony feels his cock weep pathetically between his thighs, but he can't reach down and grab it so long as he's fisting Steve's jacket. He doesn't want to, not if it means letting go of the fabric in his hands, if it means not drowning himself in Steve's faded scent. He can come without touching himself—Steve will _make him_ come without touching himself. Nuzzling the sleeve of Steve's jacket, Tony pants harshly and pushes back into Steve's thrusts the best he can. The blond groans appreciatively, plastering himself to Tony's back and nosing behind his ear, mouth seeking out his neck where it peeks out over the collar of his top.

“I'm never going to be able to wear this thing, again, you know that, right?” Steve murmurs right next to Tony's ear, making him shiver, “even if we can clean it…”

Tony grips the jacket harder, clenching his eyes shut tight as a bolt of pleasure races through him and crashes hard into a bundle of nerves at the base of his spine.

Steve slips his hand up Tony's stomach, fingers quickly locating a nipple and pinching. "I'd be too distracted. All I'd do is think about this, about **you** _right now_ ," he confesses.

Tony bites into the sleeve, coming into the bedsheets. “Sssteve,” he stutters.

The blond grunts at Tony tightening around him, pausing his thrusts, he flips the brunet onto his back once more and quickly fucks back into him, barreling toward his release frantically. Tony unclamps his hands from the jacket and shakily grabs onto Steve's neck and shoulders, pulling him down for one last, sloppy kiss before the blond finally comes.

They curl together, completely spent, basking in the afterglow.

Tony, of course, ruins it: _“fuck yeah, America,”_ he croons quietly.

 _“Stop it.”_  


End file.
